Sweet Surrender
by MistressMasquerad
Summary: Valerie Howl was adopted into a family of animal feeding vampires. What happend when the entire vampire community goes on vacation, and she is required to attend?


_**Prolog**_

'Why is it always me?' Valerie thought. Maybe it was because they thought she was weak. Or perhaps it was because her naïve nature made her appear like a cherry on top of a sundae. It sits alone, atop a mountain of other satisfying topping, but no. You always eat the cherry first. Because the cherry is different, it challenges you by simply sitting on top of your dessert.

Or maybe it really was her fault. She was a pacifist, believing good, but most of all the good in people. It made her trust in things, and in people that she knew didn't deserve it. How strange that even now as she sat in his car and looked up at him, she still didn't know why. Why did she always fall in love with the bad guy? But as he turned to her, flashing a dangerous smile she saw the reason hiding in his eyes. They danced, as they always did, but tonight with something she'd never seen before. Conflicting emotions, that tangled together to form a common one. Desire, not necessarily for physical closeness, but desire to be with her none the less. Maybe she did always fall in love with the bad guy, but at least this time one fell back.

Sweet Surrender

Putting the earplugs in place Valerie grinned, and raised her riffle. It was a beautiful 10mm pearl handled double wide-set pistol. Equipped with signature automatic release and overall a damn good shot. Guaranteed to stop anything on two legs, or at least any living thing. She licked her dry lips and pulled the trigger twelve times in rapid succession. Sound erupted from the tip of the gun, and Val fought to keep her arm steady. At least that's what it looked like. After the jolts that the round sent through her arm had ceased she examined the gun closely.

"The 47 revolver does better." She stated simply before tossing the gun over her shoulder. It was fumbled and then caught by a bald portly man known only as Merv.

"I have yet to see a gun that can handle how fast you pull that damn trigger. You might be a little more careful with the merchandise eh? Unless you got 2,000 bucks just lyin' around somewhere I don' know about." He mumbled placing the gun gingerly back in its case. Val shrugged and pulled a 357 Magnum from her purse and flashed it at him along with a perfected smile. Merv chuckled as she began polishing it with a rag, and went to remove her target. The Magnum had been a Val's birthday present. It had been on clearance for months, so Merv decided it was a piece of junk, and gave it to her for free. Now looking at the target Merv's mouth dropped in shock. Each shot was perfectly place on the miniature man's body. Two shots, one in either ankle, to stop them from running. Three in the right chest cavity, where the heart would be, and the other 7 formed a V in the middle of the empty face. Merv sighed and shook his head. The child was baffling.

"What that random, or are you just showing off?" Merv asked giving her the target and slapping her hand away from a double barreled shotgun.

"What do you think?" Val teased folding the target and sticking it in the pocket of her black jeans.

"All I know is I was watchin' you that whole time, and you hand never even moved. So how the bloody hell did those shots line up like that?"

"I'm late." Val murmured, ignoring the question, and leaning over the counter to place a kiss on Merv's cheek.

"Oh sure, gotta go take your clothes off for French pricks with cameras, as queer men fix your hair after you "muss it" while switching poses." He muttered restocking the cash register with coins. Merv didn't exactly approve of Val's career, but hey, cash is cash.

"It's not a shoot, I have to go home and pack." Valerie sighed, reluctance clearly piercing through her bubbly exterior.

"Where ya headed?" Merv wondered aloud. In all the time he had known Valerie he had never even heard her mention going on vacation.

"San Francisco, its kind of a family reunion." That was one way to put it.

"Really, how many you expecting?" he asked, probing for more information.

"Well you see it's my WHOLE family, distant, and immediate. So there will be an unbearable amount of people there." There now, that wasn't entirely a lie. However Val's false enthusiasm about the whole ordeal was apparent. She had been dreading the next three weeks for months.

It was seven o'clock and the sun had just dipped bellow the tower of the town library. Val rounded the corner of Fairydell Lane, taking out her cell phone. Putting the phone to her ear, she waited six rings before a voice growled into the opposite end.

**"**WHAT?"

"Aw, sorry Sammy did I wake you?"

"Mmhmmm." He confirmed sleepily, sounding uncharacteristically childish.

"Pshht…lazy. Hey are Derek or Kathleena up yet?" she questioned rounding the last curve, spotting the gravel driveway ahead.

"No, damn Vally it's like only seven o'clock! Come back in the A.M munchkin, and then we'll talk. Later!"

"Sam… no don't hand up! Sam? SAMMMYYYY?" she wailed into the receiver. Needless to say, he was gone.

"Stupid lame ass brother…stupid lame ass FAMILY!" Valerie groaned lugging her heavy back pack up, dragging her feet on the stone. She said the words out loud, but inside her heart swelled with pride as she mentioned them. They were unconventional to say the least, but they (meaning her brothers) were also the most loving, selfless people she knew. Derek, the eldest brother by 17 seconds, was a passionate artist. He was taken aback by abstract beauty, and often said that colors "told stories." They had never "spoken" to Valerie, but they gave Derek twenty minute lectures. Say you were walking by a store, and there was light shinning through a piece of stained glass, Derek would find a seat and watch it until ever tint, ever shade was committed to memory. Beauty wasn't any different. He was known to stop random people on the street, people who stirred something inside his mind, and ask if he could stare at them for a moment longer. For her sixteenth birthday he gave her a portrait, the most breath-taking piece she'd ever seen. Half was a black and white sketch of her body, from her chin to the bottom of her mini. Her fingers were laced, and cradled in her hands was a rose. The left of the canvas was a music score, a song written especially for her by her other brother Samuel. It was a song that described her like a fearless angel, a song that only she had ever heard him sing. Sammy was destined to be either famous, or infamous. He was a musical genius, piano and guitar being his specialty. He wrote composed, and played his all his own stuff, except for when he let Val sing on a few of his tracks. His fingers flashed like lightning up and down the keys, and strings. Unlike Derek he was assertive, misunderstood, and very short tempered. Often times he say while being lectured my Kathleena that "he didn't break the rule, he was simply testing its elasticity." This never went over well. When their mother had adopted Valerie, she sometimes referred to them as "the triplets." More often then not Val wished that that statement was true. When their mother disappeared Kathleena took over custody and their little trio closer then ever. However Val never really felt like a part of the family for one obvious reason, she wasn't a blood relative. Blood, the single factor that never failed to completely screw up Val's life. The blood she didn't have, and most dangerous, the blood she did.

As Val walked through the door the house seemed to erupt with sound. Drums to be exact, one of Derek's latest projects. She threw her bag on the sofa and slunk quietly over to the music room to watch Derek play. He sat on the drum stool, shirt off and inside the base drum, to stop vibrations. Blonde hair was thrown in his eyes with every strike of the stick, and his green eyes that usually followed the sheet music with skillful grace now blazed red. It wasn't unusual, Kathleena and Samuel's eyes were the same color after a days sleep. The counts of the music seemed to tumble off his lips at an unbelievable pace, and his angular nose scrunched up with every off beat sound. She loved to watch him play, almost as much as she loved to watch Sam paint. They were almost identical. Sam's hair was a few shades darker then Derek's, and it had red flecks in it. It was a tradition at Halloween they would either go as themselves, or each other. You never really knew which. They would dye their hair and everything, it was a scream. And when she thought about how much she loved them she decided she would not put up anymore fuss about the vacation, even if it meant going and risking her life.

"I don't get you man." Lore groaned turning away from the scene in front of him. Kyle lifted his head, lips forming into a quizzical smirk before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. It left a streak of smeared blood on the white button down but he didn't seem to care. He was far too drunk off the afterglow of a good meal to even notice.

"God, why don't you just kill her like a normal person?" Lore persisted clearly annoyed by his friend's habits. The thought amused Kyle, the last thing he would ever be was normal.

"Preservation," Kyle said, caressing the lips of the girl below him with his fingertips.

"Preservation of what," Lore demanded, unmoved by the tender moment.

"Her gift to the world." Kyle whispered leaning down and creating a very realistic hickey overtop the two bite marks on her neck.

"And I suppose that is completely necessary." Lore joked sarcastically gathering up his bag and turning around just in time to see Kyle plant a delicate kiss on her necks unresponsive flesh.

"Of course, how would you feel if you woke up in a few hours and were lightheaded, tired, and had two giant bite marks in your neck? The hickey plants and idea, a much more believable one, and covers up the evidence." Kyle explained smiling suggestively while getting up and exiting the building.

"What is it with you and singers? You won't kill anyone, especially not them."

"On the contrary, I kill many people, but I require generous compensation." Kyle chuckled and went on. "Singers, well killing them would mean murdering the passion that forces its way from the soul and descends onto the ears as but simple notes. Every chord echoes with the memories of life. I could not bring myself to take such a radiant voice, such unbridled fervor from the world." Lore's bored stare was answer enough. No one understood his infatuation with the human voice. It was a love affair that had been going strong since age 8. And with the up coming gathering only days away, the memory was becoming fresh in his mind. 200 years ago at the gathering Kyle had been 8 years old, and a young ball of energy. Even at such a young age he had been uncommonly in tune with whom he was, and seemed suspiciously calm about it. Then again, he was a Smith, and answered to no one.

When vampires are "reborn" or turned they may be physically 20 or 46 but their age restart, just as it would if a soul went through reincarnation. They must start from scratch learning the ways and tricks of the trade. The younger a vampires is the harder they are to control. They are restless, mischievous, and glutinous. Feeding was required once almost every day, but nothing seemed to slake their thirst. Kyle remembered those days, and he also remembered Vera. He could almost hear her sweet melody as she brushed out her hair, preparing for sleep. She was a chamber maid, one that worked in the hotel that the Society had rented out for the gathering. Kyle was roaming the halls unsupervised when a soft lyrical sound lured him into her hallway. No young vampire was ever allowed anywhere without a chaperon until at least 30 years of practice, and yet the voice enticed him and eventually he ventured into the forbidden, into her chamber. This was certainly an odd situation. A man she scarcely knew existed, coming into her room at an ungodly hour of the night. Certainly strange for the early 1800's, and yet she seemed unfazed, inviting him inside and offering him a drink. Kyle desperately wanted a drink, but thought it best not to elaborate on that subject. It grew more and more difficult as the night wore on, the need for her clawing its way from his stomach to his teeth. His throat itched from the dry sensation that threatened his sanity until it broke. She seemed content, brushing her hair, calmly asking him trivial questions about his past, and his visit. When he stopped responding she turned and gazed at him concerned.

"Kyle, something the matter? Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Sing." He requested knowing well that it would be his demise, but refusing to believe he could harm such and exquisite woman. Her large brown doe eyes crinkled with silent laughter as she began to hum, and gradually start to sing. All the restraint he held was shattered before the first chorus. Guilt was very foreign, and was rarely experienced by such powerful and dangerous vamps as Kyle. However the thing that resembled the emotion the most was the fact that as he jerked Vera into his arms, fully intending on doing the unthinkable, she didn't scream but giggled. Giggled, as if he were making advances, but as she lost consciousness he realized that in a way her was, and unless he learned self control they would all be fatal.

"EARTH TO SMITH! You're a damn SPACE CADET, what the hell is wrong with you!" Lore shouted in Kyle's ear desperately trying to get his attention before he caused an accident. Being ripped from the memory Kyle realized that he was in fact driving the car, not to mention, on the wrong side of the road. Looking back he noticed the four consecutive red lights he had run.

"Are you deaf, blind, retarded or all three?" Lore snarled reaching over to change the radio station. Flicking his eyes, irritated, Kyle shot his hand out at an unbelievable speed and grabbed Lore's in a painful grip. Hissing with painful protest Lore tried to jerk his hand free.

"Watch it." Kyle reminded him, and with a bored sigh released the boy's hand.

"You know I was just messin' with ya." Lore mumbled rubbing his hand gently.

"Of course I do, but that's not the point. My car, my music." Lore tilted his head in confusion and then laughed a little. He was a good companion for Kyle. Young yes, but old enough to be taken out. He looked about 30, give or take a few years. They told him to stick with Kyle just in case. The off beat fiery red head proved to be entertaining, so Kyle continued to let him tag along. However Kyle wondered why the Society had put Lore in his charge. The thing was, Kyle marched to the beat of his own drum, and did things the Society would have undoubtedly pronounced unacceptable. Kyle could get away with most of the crap he pulled because of his rank and name. There were four families: the Smith's, and Johnsons, the William's, and the Howl's. The most powerful family was the Smith's. They were the oldest, richest, and most terrifying family. No only were they cold blooded killers, they were also highly paid assassins. Next, were the Johnsons, the Williams, and the Howls. The entire vampire community was made up of these four families, and they were all required to get together once every ten years to reconnect, attend a Grand Council Meeting, and after a gala. They called it The Gathering, a three week family reunion of sorts, however strictly VIP. Vampires only. This year it would be hosted in San Francisco. They were leaving first thing in the morning. Lore, Carver, and Jesse were all part of Kyle's entourage. Jesse was a Spaniard, Carver was British, and the four of them we like a team. Carver was a tracker, exceptionally alert and his senses were keen. Jesse was what was called a Charmer. He manipulated minds, and could get his way not matter what stood in his was. He was, as would be assumed, quite popular with women in ways that Carver and Lore were not. Kyle being and experienced fighter had no trouble in that department. He was content with being alone until he could find someone who was is equal. Kyle never settled for anything.


End file.
